The Call of Sithis
by AncientAssassin
Summary: Yleri, a wandering Nord in the ever-Imperial Cyrodiil finds herself wrapped in the shadowy embrace of the Night Mother, Sithis, and eventually her mentor Lucien Lachance, much to her own surprise. This is a story about her life in her new family. Begins in 3E 421, twelve years before the events of Oblivion. *ON HIATUS I apologise*
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Hiya! This is NOT my first fanfic so feel free to review however you want, flaming or no. (You can still find something to fix in a flame review) I have had this for a while but due to two years without internet I was never able to upload it. My other story is **_**The Wolf and the Fox _a Dragon Age fic. (sorry for the shameless self-promotion) Anyway this is a Lucien/ PC (but really more OC) fic but I am trying to develop the relationship realistically so don't expect smut or "I love yous" soon. Anyway thanks for checking my story out and I hope you enjoy it!  
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**_OH before I forget: The italiacs are the Nord language (or Norwegian if you feel so inclined)_**

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Adrenalin was pumping through her like she had never known. It was a feeling one could only experience and never describe. She was dodging the branches of the trees, leaping over rocks, sliding down the hills messily in fits of laughter and joy. Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw a Legion officer and a dozen other guards in hot pursuit. She grinned as more adrenalin found its way to her muscles, she loved this feeling. The stalking, the hunting, and finally the chasing. It was something she discovered she loved at a young age after hunting in the great Pine Forest of Skyrim with her father. She made her first kill with him, a fawn of considerable size while her father took down the mother. He was proud of her, until she refused to skin it. If anything, that was the part that disgusted her the most, that mutilation of the animal. She enjoyed killing and hunting, being the one to see the last breath of a living creature, but skinning a creature was entirely different. She felt like she was wronging the dead when she did so, it didn't sit right with her stomach. But she still loved the killing, and when she was old enough she was the lone hunter in the forest killing the animals then hauling the carcass home to her family. She preferred it that way anyway. Being the one to make that final blow, being able to hold the power of life or death in her hand, she reveled in it.

And now she was running from the guards of the Imperial City because of it.

She had picked someone at random, she did not know this burly hulk of an Orc but she enjoyed hunting him. Stalking him around the city all day without being noticed. She could have easily isolated the man and slit his throat but she did not wish for this. She wanted someone else, some passerby perhaps, to see her, a 'simple-minded' bulky Nordic woman, take down the awesome Orc. She was going to revel in this kill. Deer and bears and boars were no longer satisfying to her so she went for the civilized and intelligent creatures of Nirn, anything to give her a challenge.

And she loved every moment of it.

When killing this Orc she took her dagger, a traditional Nordic huntsman dagger that was meant for the quick killing and skinning of a beast, and she snuck behind him. The steel point barely about to touch the green skin of his exposed back. Quickly the dagger bit into his skin just as he was exiting an alleyway, she dragged the blade up his spine making him howl in pain and terror. He moved to turn around but his wound prevented him from doing so. He fell to the ground writhing in pain and she moved to his chest quickly, one knee over his heart, and she slit his throat in one fluid movement, severing the main blood vessels there and silencing his screams. She looked up and found people staring at her in shock, fear, disgust, and anger. She smiled at them, her teeth a stark contrast to the blood that coated her face. She stood and sheathed her dagger and waited. Someone turned and ran towards the guards calling for help and she heard their signature heavy footfalls close in around her. But she did not live in Valenwood for ten years for nothing. She turned, sprinted, and jumped, grasping at a lamp-post and swinging herself across the street and onto the nearby archway, very much similar to the Bosmer acrobats. The soldiers gathered around at the level ground unable to follow her, giving her a few precious seconds to smile a predatory smile, which was interrupted by and arrow that gnawed its way into her shoulder. Her face became blank as the pain hit her and she ran. She then pulled herself onto the top of the archway, much to her shoulder's disdain, and ran to the adjacent building. Looking down at her bleeding shoulder she grimaced and broke most of  
the arrow off, leaving only a stub of the wood and the iron tip in her flesh. Now she was the one to be hunted.

She ran ignoring the throbbing in her shoulder, her only goal to get out of the district, then the city, and then head southeast towards Leyawiin. Oh she was not done however, her thirst for blood was not yet satisfied. She would run from these fools and she would not hide in the mountains or forest. She would hide among the people, the main identifying mark on her, her blue Nordic war paint, would be gone and she would hide in plain sight in order to strike again. Such was her plan, as she jumped to the nearby roof. To her left another archer was notching an arrow and she spun to her right, grabbing onto a chimney stack and vaulting over it, against her shoulder's pleading. Leaping over roof after roof she reached the city gate and thought about impeding the guards' way but decided not to. She wanted to experience the hunt as the prey and not the hunter. So she ran into the great forest dodging the branches of the trees, leaping over rocks, sliding down the hills messily, all while her injured shoulder screamed at her in protest. She slid down a hill, the dirt hard and flying into her face. But as painful as the little projectiles of dirt were, nothing compared to the rock that jabbed into the toes of her left foot. She cried out as the rock made her trip, rolling down the hill painfully and causing her to land rather painfully on her shoulder.

"Talos damnit!" she cried after she spat out the dirt and grass that invaded her mouth in the fall. She looked at her ankle that was beginning to bruise and swell around her hunting moccasin, It was still positioned the right way, so she only sprained it, thank Talos, but it was hurt enough that when she tried to get up it screamed at her, the fiery tendrils of pain shooting through her body.

"I've found her! She is over here!" an Imperial guard of surprising bulk called out as he surveyed the scene, arms waving to his comrades. The Nord girl boasted a lean and tall frame that was fairly common for Nord women, copper braid, accompanied with startling blue eyes that one would expect from Nords. She had fierce dark blue paint that covered both of her eyes in a thick horizontal bar, her top lip coated with the same paint and a small vertical bar that ran down the center of her bottom lip. He sneered at the savage as he came closer, watching as she bit her lip in obvious pain, despite the fact that her lip had the blood of an Orc on it. He saw her hand at her shoulder attempting stem the blood flow of an arrow one of his fellows had left and he noticed a very swollen and very purple ankle under a leather moccasin. As he walked closer to the Nord woman he heard her hiss out at him in the savage language of the Nords.

"_Curse you and your children you filthy swine_!"

He looked at her, something nasty coiling in his gut. She was an animal-worshiping savage and a murderer, worse was the fact that she enjoyed doing that to another living being. Yet they were just going to take her to prison, why not kill her now? The punishment for murder was death anyway. Yet he walked forward anyway and she kicked at him with her unharmed foot, he jumped back in surprise and heard her shout at him in her harsh language.

"_Do not touch me_!"

He scoffed at her words, not understanding them and moved to pick her up and bind her wrists. She lashed out at him with long, dirt, and blood filled nails. Instead of jumping back again he grabbed her wrists roughly and wrapped them tightly with the rope from his belt. Once he was sure that she was secure he hoisted her up from the ground as his fellows came upon the scene, a few clapping him on the back in congratulations.

"_Let me go_!"

A darker skinned Imperial stepped next to her and backhanded her, metal gloves and all, "Quiet, savage! I will not have your foul language taint my men!" she looked back up at him, hatred and fire in her eyes. She spat on his steel boots with disgust, blood from the Orc and her own cracked lip mixing with her spit.

"_Go screw yourself_!"

He backhanded her again, bruises blossomed and her cheekbone began to swell painfully. She was no longer the pretty Nord from a few moments ago, now she was a heartless murderess that deserved every hit, every kick, and every insult that was thrown at her in the next five minutes. None of the other guards moved to stop their captain's actions, and most of them savored watching it.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yleri Ialea Snow-Bear?"

The Nord woman looked up at the sound of a name she had not heard in eleven years. Her bloodshot eyes surveyed an Imperial man in officer's armor. He stood with a worn, leather-bound book in one of his hands, the other hand was occupied by a quill with a nib that needed sharpening. She smirked at him but regretted the action quickly when a sharp pain jolted through her now broken cheekbone. She gingerly touched the bruising around her black eye, feeling her warpaint begin to crack and flake off of her skin. She hated that magika did not flow through her veins, all of her wounds would have healed by now and she would be able to escape.

"How did you discover my name?"

The guard flinched in surprise, "It is of no consequence to you, since you replied then our contacts were correct. Now then, the Captain said you only spoke the Nord language, if you could speak the Imperial tongue why didn't you use it?"

If she wanted to answer him she would have, but she stayed quiet in her cell, not answering the guard's query. He watched her for a moment longer before scratching something down in his book. He turned to walk to the next cell block when he heard her speak again.

"Sharpen that damn nib will you? Its dullness borders incompetency."

His mouth drew in a thin line and heat rushed up to his face, he did not expect that she knew of writing. He gathered his book closer to his side and continued walking down the damp hallway.

Caius Marcelo was an average guard of around twenty nine. He was fairly average in appearance, not being completely handsome with his various collection of tiny scars that subtly crisscrossed his face, but he was not unattractive either. He had no immediate family near the Imperial City that he could call upon in a time of need, his mother and sister living in Anvil. He imagined life as a guard of the Imperial City as exciting and a way to bring justice and order, but he realized too late that being a guard was far too boring and justice was painfully slow to act. He felt the weight of his book in his right hand, the dull-nibbed quill occupied lazily in his left fingers as his thoughts drifted. That woman, that barbarian Nord was a murderer, she wasn't even denying it! Yet she still was sitting in the prison getting three meals a day when the family that she ruined is in mourning. It didn't seem right that a vile creature like that Nord was still alive. Killing her when she was injured and captured would've been much easier than watching her eat her fill every night, waiting for the punishment for her crime to be acted against her. He groaned as he entered the barracks for the night and saw his friend, Dantius Pavel the one who had captured the girl, sitting on his bed with his leather scabbard, cleaning oils, and a rag.

"What troubles you Caius? Today has been successful! The guards stopped a thief in the act, returned someone's sweetcake, and, oh yes, caught a murderous Nord bitch."

Caius chuckled at his friend and sat down at his own bed across the room. Anger filled his thoughts, it wasn't fair that those prisoners had a roof and walls to protect them from harm. It wasn't fair that they had hot meals three times a day when they had murdered people, stolen priceless items, raped women, and many other things. Dantius noticed his friend's quiet demeanor, "Caius? What's wrong?" Caius placed his log book on the small table next to his bed and looked up at his friend. The internal struggle finally ending as he reached a decision.

"Dantius, is it right for those prisoners, that murderess, to have three meals a day and a place to sleep? I mean she killed another citizen today and she laughed about it. Laughed. Does that seem fair to you? She should suffer for what she did."

Dantius stared quietly at his friend, of course he agreed with him, but what were they going to do about it? Caius looked at him knowingly…he was having similar thoughts. An idea suddenly formed in his head, it was something he and Dantius could pull off together if they timed everything just right. If this worked they could see justice through and continue with their lives.

"Dantius what if we were to bring justice to one of those criminals? Particularly a lunatic of a murderess?"

Dantius looked at his friend in surprise, that actually sounded like a good idea. Justice, proper justice, towards a woman who didn't deserve it. He did not need to respond verbally he just smiled at his friend and they both knew exactly what to do.

The murderess looked up from her seat on the floor as the door to her cell groaned open. Two guards she recognized stood before her, the swine who caught her and the one with the dull nib, they looked nervous and blood thirsty. She knew by the look in their eyes what they had planned for her ans she knew she wasn't going to enjoy it. She shrunk back slightly, against her will and good sense, showing bloodthirsty men a weakness was not the smartest thing she's ever done. They had been doing this since she was first imprisoned, two weeks ago. The one with the bad nib moved towards her without caution or subtlety, just a clear intention of harm. She could see the nervousness in his eyes that shown briefly before the blood lust took over him. He hit her, hard, in the stomach and she slumped to the side, feeling the urge to vomit. The swine who caught her moved in and started kicking her ribs and she felt a few crack. Screeching in pain she curved into a small ball in order to shield her already shattered face.

The guards carried on like that for a few minutes longer and paused to view their work. The savage was sobbing into her arms which were pathetically shielding her face. Saliva and blood mixed in a stream that dribbled from her mouth, snot drained from her bloodied nose as she whimpered. They did not however feel sorry or her. She killed someone today and laughed about it, she was getting what she deserved before she died. Her crying slowed and she quieted down, realizing that they were taking a break. Her mind worked quickly, they had left the door to her cell open, that means that they were going to try an make her immobile…that is if she wasn't already. The Swine had a steel dagger in his right boot, he was dressed in light leather armor and had a steel sword sheathed in his belt. Dull Nib boasted heavy armor, a sword and dagger, no shield and no helmet. they looked away from her and she took the opportunity to silently test her movement. She wiggled her fingers and toes, moved her feet, legs, and arms, she was good for movement, not that it was without pain that she could barely contain. She moved back to her fetal position, ignoring that her muscles and bones growled at her as she tensed to make her move.

Caius was the first to turn around to continue the onslaught, while Dantius who had left to fetch a goblet of water had not yet returned. As Caius moved to hit her again he did not notice her muscles tense, or if he did it was mistakenly took it as preparation for their attack. Caius reached down to grab her ragged tunic when she moved. Her right hand lashed out and hit him on the side of the head, disorienting him. Dropping to the ground, Yleri kicked in Dull Nib's knee quickly and rolled away as he fell forward. In his scramble to get up from the ground Yleri sat on his back and fumbled for the dagger sheathed in his belt. Her fingers finally grasped the hilt of the small blade just as Dull Nib pushed himself off the ground and her off his back. She rolled on her side and hopped onto her feet, which sent a jolt of pain through her legs. She gritted her teeth in pain and launched herself forward just as he lurched forward to grab her. She forced the dagger into the junction between his neck and shoulder, the one place he did not have armor covering him well. He yelled in pain as she twisted the dagger deeper, managing to sever a particularly vital blood vessel in the process. He was swinging around violently but due to his weakening state he could not swat her away from his neck.

His struggling gasps for air did not help him survive. He sank slowly to his knees, the Nord still pushing his dagger deeper and deeper into his neck. With a choking sob Dull Nib slumped over dead, Yleri searched his pockets quickly and thankfully found a small collection of coins and a ring of keys tucked away in his belt. Her bare feet hit the slimy, blood-warmed floor of her cell, and made a slight sucking sound as she tried to sneak away. She thought about what to do, The Swine went to fill flasks with water for the pair and that was in a nearby part of the prison, she had to move fast before he returned, especially since Dull Nib screamed.

The Imperial prison was a vast labyrinth that confused her at every turn. She was used to the direct halls of the Nords, the tall terraces of the Bosmer trees, she could not comprehend these curling hallways that the Imperials seemed to recognize. She desperately looked around, she felt like she had been wandering for hours but knew it had only been moments since she had left her cell, Dull Nib's blood was still warm. Her ears prickles at the sound of a throaty and very enraged yell.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: many thanks to FreddiesKillerQueen, KaiaUchiha1, twin01, , and Xo-fan-fic-girl-Xo for the favorite and follows! Now please, please, _please_ review and give me feedback please! Reviews help me grow as a writer so I really appreciate them! Reviews also let me know if I should continue working on this project, so PLEASE let me know what you think! Enjoy the chapter and I am dreadfully sorry it is so late!**

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_Her ears prickle at the sound of a throaty and very enraged yell._

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Damn

Her feet squelched as she attempted to walk forward. She was in no condition to climb, her wound from the arrow had become infected since she had been brought to the prison two weeks ago. She was grateful that neither her legs nor her arms were broken, but as she quickly and silently took inventory of her injuries she realized that she needed to get to a healer quickly if she wanted to operate normally ever again. She heard multiple footsteps running in the distance and she knew the guards were on high alert; she took too long waiting. There were crates just to her left but she couldn't tell if they led anywhere if climbed. She ruled that option out, she wouldn't climb it even if she could. She cursed the gods for letting the guards lock up her things, all her coins and chameleon potions were in there, and right now that was all she cared about. Shouts resounded along the damp stone walls of the prison, they were getting closer. She moved, not caring where her feet took her as long as they took her away from the guards. She turned a corner, seeing a flickering orange light, she hesitated. Lights meant candles and candles in this prison meant guards, but it could also lead to an exit. She looked around, panicking on where to go next. The guard's footsteps were in earshot again and she made her choice.

She moved towards the candle, its flickering light casting shadows across the room and hallway. Yleri followed the shadows, something she couldn't quite accomplish with her injuries and tall Nord frame. There was nothing of use to her in the room, except a corridor that appeared to lead somewhere else. She shifted her feet and began making her way towards the dark hallway. The guards were getting closer…she could practically feel their anger already. The corridor was slick with water and algae on the dark unlit stone. The putrid smell of urine and feces washed over her, the scent so thick she began to gag. The Nord moved painfully and slowly despite the urgency of the situation. Sounds of metal and leather on water-slicked stone found its way to her ears and she began to try and move faster, thankfully the corridor was incredibly long. The corridor opened up into a large chamber, one that split into multiple dark directions. Torchlight flickered in her peripheral vision and she slinked against the corridor wall again, hushed but obviously angered voices echoed from the light and she heard a cascade of angry footfalls from the hallway and room she just exited, damn they were getting too close for comfort. The light blossomed until she was just barely in the shadow of the tunnel. Her heart was beating as though Talos was using it as a war drum, her breath was being held captive in her chest. She pressed tighter against the stone despite her injuries screaming in protest. The tip of her dirty nose was just reaching the brink of the light when she heard the boots stop and make the slick sound of someone turning leather-clad heels around. The glow faded away and Kynereth let her breath escape from her lips. Her head, still squished against the wall, turned to peek around the corner, the leather footsteps faded while the metal ones behind her became louder. She crept forward swiftly as possible, her lame ankle making a slight shuffling sound, scraping against the stone. In front of her was a storm drain but the scent that assaulted her nose meant that it was actually a sewer. Her face scrunched as far as it could go without bringing her overwhelming pain. Yleri definitely did not want to go there, but she lifted the lid as slowly as she could, her weakened muscles screaming in protest and her broken ribs poking her in all the worse places. A ladder peeked up from the entrance and she was relieved, she could close the heavy stone cover quieter now. The shouts and footsteps grew louder and the increase in adrenalin made her move faster. She moved her hands and slipped under the stone lifting it with her back and legs as she climbed down the creaking ladder slowly, she held the stone cover up as long as possible before finally letting it drop. She flinched slightly at the echo it caused, praying to Talos that no one cared to know what that was.

She slinked through the stone halls of the sewer, happy to discover only rats that appeared slightly smaller than the Skyrim Skeevers she recognized, and Cyrodiilic Mudcrabs. Her dirty feet led her in what she felt was a maze, grime and muck and things she did not want to think about squished between her toes and splashed up her legs as she stumbled around. The energy was leaving her system and the full extent of her exertion was hitting her every wound and nerve. Perspiration created a thin film all over her body and the humid sewer did nothing to help. She was about to turn a corner when she heard a strange clicking noise, like words in a language she did not recognize. Skittering of cumbersome and talon tipped feet echoed from the chamber she was about turn into, there was a constant clunk of wood on stone as if the wood were walking around the sewer. Yleri squished against the wall and leaned forward slightly to see, her ankle almost giving out on her as she did so. A green creature adorned with bones and carved beads dangling from strings walked around with a hefty old staff. The dark wood carved with the design of a long dragon breathing fire onto a grand soul gem. She almost whistled as the staff's beauty, even though she didn't have the magic to truly appreciate such an item she recognized the market value. Despite the staff however, her eyes still narrowed at the sharp teeth, claws and feet of the goblin. The bottom of the staff was currently being used to knock around bits of wood from a broken crate in a vain attempt to find goodies. Yleri looked around for something sharp or blunt to use as a weapon. Finding nothing of use she began to attempt to sneak past the goblin, she did not want to deal with harmful magic in her current state…or any state for that matter; like most Nords she was not one to trust any magic wielder other than a healer. Her feet, covered in slick and slimy substances that she did not want to think about, we're silent as she continued on. She moved forward ever-so-slowly praying to her gods that the shackles attached to her ankles did not grate together. The slick muck that squished between her toes sucked slightly at the ground and she flinched as the goblin paused in its searching. Growling floated through the stale air into Yleri's ears and she looked over towards the green beast, the bones that dangled from its wrist and neck dully clunked together as it turned to face the Nord, baring its teeth at her.

"Shit."

The goblin lunged for the Yleri, using its staff as a bludgeon first before using it to wield magic. Yleri dodged to the right, slamming into the wall and sending vibrations through her cheek and ribs. She grunted in pain as the goblin turned to attack again, fire crackling dangerously at the end of the staff. The sewer lit up as the shaman threw a fireball in the Nord's general direction and Yleri ducked, taking the time to swipe the goblin's clawed feet from under it. The staff clattered to the ground and rolled away towards the grated sewer exit, just out of their reaches. Yleri hopped up to stomp on the creature and was surprised to find its claws digging into her skin. She stifled a scream and attempted to leap backwards, but ended up falling on her tailbone. The goblin grinned evilly as it opened its sharp maws, its blackening fangs coated with a strange slime, bits of flesh stuck between its teeth. Yleri observed the disgusting creature only for a moment before she felt the searing pain of its fangs cutting through her right leg. She kicked at the creature with her left foot unsuccessfully. The goblin's teeth just began to shred into her calf muscles. Her arm bolted towards the direction of the staff, her calloused fingertips just barely grazing the ancient carved wood. The goblin somehow bit harder.

Yleri screamed.

The sound echoed throughout the stone sewer and somewhere in the back of her head she knew a guard must have heard. Without thinking she lifted her torso up to attempt to scoot backwards just a little bit more, and the goblin took this opportunity to release her leg. She fell hard on her right shoulder, the wound beginning to crack and bleed from exertion. Her fingers however did manage to grab the staff and she swung it as hard as she could towards the shaman's head. The goblin reeled back, a horrid shrill screech erupting from it's throat and echoing around the stone. Yleri would have covered her ears if her life was not on the line, so she whacked the goblin again, shutting it up. She scrambled back up against the damp, slimy stone, swinging wildly as she did so. She managed to strike true with one of the hits and the goblin crumpled, clutching its ribs. The Nord scrambled up as quickly as she could and brought the ancient staff down on the goblin's large head with a sickening crack. Hot fluid seeped from the crack, a mixture of blood and brains, but she did not stop. She hit the creature as many times as she could before her shoulder gave out. Her right arm seized and the staff clattered to the ground. Her arm clutched the wound and she felt blood and infection seep between her fingers. She groaned, the sound echoing across the filthy water, and closed her eyes. The wounded Nord wanted nothing more than to lean her head back against the crumbling stone and sleep, but she knew better.

A sudden and faint clink of metal on stone resounded through the sewer. She knew how far away the ladder was, which meant that whoever made that sound was closer than she was comfortable with. She scramble up, ignoring the screaming injuries and used the staff as a walking stick to shuffle towards the gate that led to fresher air. She could barely see the beams of sunlight, but she could definitely smell the freshness that began to seep into the air. A large metal grate blocked the sewer exit and her heart sank. The door within the grate was locked tightly. She sighed and almost slid back down to the floor, she had no lock picks to use, no magic to melt the metal, no weapon to brea- of course! The staff! It seemed strong enough to at least do some physical damage, and the lock seemed rusty anyway. This could work, she could actually _escape the Imperial Prison. _With the last bit of her Nordic strength she plunged the staff down onto the ancient metal, it didn't work. She tried again and again, not caring about the noise she was beginning to make. Then without her realizing it, or hearing the faint snap of the rusted metal, or the small splash as it landed in the muck, she moved to break the lock one last time when suddenly there was no lock to catch the staff and she lost her balance. The tall woman tumbled into the old rusted gate and knocked it open. Kynareth whisked the air out of her body as she clumsily rolled into the sunlight and into the grass. She let out a breathless laugh, even if it pained her to do so. She could have stayed in that spot, the sun shining on her back, the soft grass between her toes and fingers; but all good things must end, and she was not eager to tempt fate with guardsmen on her heels. So she pushed herself up from the ground, grabbing the staff that rolled away from her during the fall, and walked over to the docks where a carelessly abandoned boat had been left. The broken crates and torn sacks around the pier contained nothing of use, not even an oar, but Yleri was not one to ignore a blessing when given one and she thanked Talos for his gift to her. So she sat down in the old vessel and leaned forward, using her cupped hands as paddles and she sailed away under the mid-day sun.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for the review Xo-fan-fic-girl-Xo! The more reviews I get, the faster I write and update! Sorry this one is a little late tonight, I just watched The Hobbit (which was *AWESOME* by the way). If anyone is interested I have this fic up on Tumblr as well. Message me for the link if you are interested. Anyway here is the next chapter, enjoy!**

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Sleep had overcome Yleri in the damp cave she had cleared of three bandits. The boat ride to took her in the general direction of this cave apparently and tired her out more than she thought it did. The bandits proved to be even more of a challenge but she succeeded with only a few scrapes and more bruises, but the brigands had meat and a hot fire so she wasn't complaining. She found a bed roll and collapsed as slowly as she could with her extensive injuries. The bed roll, full of goat, fox, bear, and deer pelts, was the most extravagant thing she had seen in a while. Since before her imprisonment actually. So to celebrate her luck, she slept the sleep of the dead.

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**_Fleur Rousseau, a small Breton woman with soft skin and forest green eyes, was approached by a Bosmer in a simple dark green shirt and tan pants. The Bosmer's eyes were alight with excitement as he walked towards the fair-haired woman, whose golden locks draped outside of her cloak's dark green hood in a hastily tied tail._**

**_"Fleur, I have wonderful news. The Night Mother has given me the name of a possible new member of the Brotherhood." Green eyes flashed with interest towards the Listener, "If you haven't heard already, an Orc was murdered in the Imperial City yesterday quite brutally, but the murderess was apprehended unfortunately. The Night Mother however has informed me that this woman will not be imprisoned for long so I have come to let you know that you must prepare your Sanctuary. I know not when the woman will escape, but I'm sure we shall hear of it from the guard when she does. She is a Nord by the name of Yleri Snow-Bear, so she should be easy to find here in Cyrodiil. As you know, you will provide the initiation contract and any information you deem necessary. Good luck Speaker."_**

**_Fleur looked towards the Listener with curiosity burning in her green eyes as he began to pull this weeks contracts for Cheydinhal. A new member, one who is going to escape from the Imperial Prison no less, will be a new Dark Sister. How intriguing. The Listener waved his hand to release Fleur after handing her a list of contracts for her Sanctuary. Fleur thought about the new Sister, what would she be like? Shee considered all her options, this Yleri could be quiet and dangerous to watch; she could be a siren who easily infiltrates the more picky nobles; she could even be a strong female warrior, like most of her race, who avoids stealth in favor of loud contracts. Whichever way she chose to kill, the Dark Brotherhood would refine her style, make her better than she is now, and if she is getting caught by guards then she would need all the training she could receive._**

**_Fleur strode from the meeting place and walked back to her stallion, Feu, who nickered and pawed at the ground as she approached. A gloved hand patted his mane as she climbed onto his saddle with practiced ease. The day was just beginning to brighten, it was Turdas, 14th of Rain's Hand and, true to its name, soon after Fleur departed the rain began to pour in the forest. She did not mind however, the prickling sting that the rain gave her as Feu ran was not at all unpleasant, quite the contrary actually, she enjoyed the sting seeing as it let her know she was alive. Fleur traveled away from the forest around Bruma and headed towards Cheydinal in order to begin preparations of the possible new Sister._**

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Fleur walked into a cave, dark, damp and stale air assaulted her senses, and she moved further into the relatively shallow cave. The cave was dark, but she had grown used to it already. Her eyes searched the blackness quickly sweeping over the surroundings when she saw the Nord, sleeping soundly but clearly in pain from her injures. Dried blood coated her ankles where shackles still made their home and dried substances coated her clothing and skin, if Fleur hadn't known she escaped the Imperial Prison before, she certainly did now. She walked forward and curiously observed the girl. Her hair was a light copper, oily and dirty, her skin held freckles but she could barely tell because of all the dirt, blood, and a substance that was possibly feces coated her visible skin. She reeked of sewers, rust, and sweat, Fleur looked at the Nord despite the stench that assaulted her nose and eyes. She slinked further into the shadows and began her hour long watch; eyes dashing to the source of every twitch; ears scrutinizing every sigh as she searched for a sign of weakness or anything that might prevent her from joining the family.

An hour later into the night showed no emotional discomfort on the woman, Yleri she remembered, and Fleur slowly walked closer to her. She crouched down, permeating the stench that floated around Yleri and slid the silver dagger, that was strapped to the Nord's dirty thigh, out of its sheath. Fleur then leaned forward and whispered "Sithis calls" into Yleri's ear to wake her. Fleur backed away from her quickly to breathe again and hid her dagger in the endless void of her robes. The Nord's eyes bolted open, she was surprised to see clear, deep blue eyes looking at her curiously. She had expected grey or green, like her own. She smiled darkly at the woman who was shocked to see a Breton standing before her but not enough so that her hand sought the dagger strapped to her upper thigh, only to find it missing. Fleur chuckled at the angry fire that erupted in the crystal Nord eyes. So to avoid the harsh laughter that threatened to erupt from Fleur's lips, she broke her lovely smile to let her smooth voice echo throughout the cavern.

"You have committed a true act of death my dear, one the Dread Father deems worthy of His ranks; and you have also escape a seemingly inescapable fortress, while injured. My dear that is something to be proud about."

She eyed Fleur dangerously, the woman wore robes that seemed to be a part of the very shadows she stood in, robes that appeared to be constantly moving, sliding across the floor, and caressing the shadows.

_"Who are you? What do you want?"_

Fleur chuckled once more and she leaned forward, and Yleri awkwardly leaned on her good arm; without her dagger she did not know what to do with her hands. "My dear, you need not attempt to scare me with the language of the Nords, it will not work I assure you. Now we both know The Empire's language, why don't we speak it like the civilized women we are?"

Yleri looked down to the ground and then back to this woman who so willingly embraced the shadows.

"My name is Fleur Rousseau and I am a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. You are no mere woman, no mere Nord to me; if you were in any way mediocre I would not be here and the Dread Father would not want you. No you are a Murderer, and a very skilled one at that. The way you cut down that Orc was incredibly precise. Am I right to assume you hunt large game? Only someone with years of training in the art of the hunt would know how to cut such a straight and smooth line so quickly."

Yleri, still suspicious, nodded, her voice still harsh from only being used for screaming for the past few weeks. "I am from Skyrim, what do you expect of me? It is in my blood to hunt."

Fleur laughed, the sound echoing like the bells in a Temple of the Nine. "Yes it is, my dear. Sithis knows this and so does the Unholy Matron, the Night Mother. That is why I stand before you; the Dark Brotherhood could use someone with such natural talent as yours. As Speaker I would like to extend the offer Sithis and the Night Mother had offered to me many years ago. Would you like to become a member of my family? We are all brothers and sisters in the eyes of Sithis and you would make a wonderful Dark Sister, Yleri."

Yleri's eyes narrowed slightly in thought, did everyone in Cyrodiil know her name? She was being offered a chance to kill more than game for a living, would she pass this up? No, she wouldn't if Talos were to descend right now and offer her a place as one of the Nine she would have ignored him for this offer. She wanted to kill more than anything else and by joining the Dark Brotherhood she could do so freely. She smiled.

Fleur saw her think for a moment, she saw the overwhelming want in her eyes and when she saw the girl smile, she gave a sinister smile of her own. "Good. Now there is one more thing you must do before you can officially join our family. Something to test your abilities even more," the Nord sighed, "It is frustrating I know, but it is tradition. On the Silver Road towards Bruma, there is a small camp of brigands, Argonian bandits to be exact. You must infiltrate this camp and kill its second-in-command, Stalks-in-Shadows, you will kill him and only him without being detected. Do I make myself clear?"

Yleri nodded and smiled, ecstatic that there were other people that couldn't get enough of killing. Fleur returned Yleri's ecstatic smile with a dark one of her own and reached into her robes to pull out Yleri's silver dagger and handed it to her hilt first. She then sank back into the shadows, disappearing from sight. Yleri leaned back on the fur pallet, wincing due to forgetting about her injuries she didn't know what exactly she was feeling. Was it happiness? Excitement? Disgust with herself? She truly couldn't tell. What she did know however was that she was incredibly tired. The Nord closed her blue eyes; she would find a healer and travel north tomorrow, but before that she would sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Happy Christmas guys! Well...late Christmas anyway. (And Happy Holidays if you don't celebrate Christmas) Sorry for the delayed update. I had school finals ALL last week and then Christmas a few days later. Good news though! I am on winter break right now for the next week and a half...so yay! here is the next chapter guys I rushed it slightly to get something to you guys but I hope you enjoy it all the same! oh thanks for the follow and the favorite Wingcommander WhiteWolf! Please remember to review or tell your friends if you like the story! :)**_

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Frosty eyes bolted open, the sound of something digging awoke her. She sat up slowly, muscles aching as she did so, to observe her cave. A large hound, like one would find in the mountains, was shuffling through the belongings of bandits. It had obvious heritage to wolves, its coat thick and grey; its eyes were blue like hers, but it's face was friendly as a dog should be. The wolf-hound perked up and stared at her, growling. Yleri froze, a silver dagger would work in killing the animal but it would exasperate her injuries or cause new ones. The wolf-hound turned its body to face at her, barked, and when Yleri didn't move it lunged.

The giant rats behind her didn't stand a chance.

The wet sound of bones cracking, blood spilling, and a creature being eaten rang in her ears. It was like a beautiful symphony and she felt like throwing up. She had always known something was off about her. She would play with the other little girls in the small village of Falkreath, but she had felt that their interests were too different to be friends. These girls wanted dresses and princes, jewelry and perfumes; Yleri wanted fighting and pants, swords and arrows. Yleri felt the need to hunt, and she was good at it thanks to Hircine and her father. The girls eventually noticed the difference and stopped playing with her; the boys had thought her too weak to play with them, so she sought solace in the Great Pine Forest. The animals gave it to her, and so did the hunt. When she killed her first animal she was disgusted with herself because she had enjoyed killing the creature, her father however was upset that she refused to skin the deer. She made a clean kill, very talented and lucky for a 11 year old girl. When her father asked her to skin it her satisfaction disappeared and she almost vomited on the dead creature.

Subtle growling awoke her from her thoughts. She really needed more sleep she thought as the wolf-hound stared at her. She smiled at him, lifting her hands up slowly in surrender. The creature lowered his head and cocked it to the side, blood and meat clung to his fur and clung to his chin. If she weren't so scared she would have chuckled at the sight. Its grey-blue orbs were locked onto her stormy ones and he padded towards her slightly. Yleri tensed up as the wolf-hound came closer to her, sniffing at her clothing, skin, wounds, and hair. She was quiet while he made his inspection he was circling around her, still sniffing, when Yleri chanced to talk any idea down from the wolf-hound's mind.

"Hello Mr. Wolf-hound," she sighed, "I'm not that tasty in case you were wondering". The animal sat down in front of her and looked into her eyes with what she interpreted as humor. She gave a crooked smile, careful to not show her teeth, and the animal just stared. The growling had subsided but Yleri knew that he wasn't done with her yet. The animal padded closer to her and sniffed her face, its foul breath washing over her face. She squeezed her eyes shut as its cold, wet nose brushed against her own nose.

Its smooth tongue left a trail of saliva on her face.

The Nord wanted to chuckle but knew that she would just scare the animal off. She let the wolf-hound continue his licking assault on her face. She was disgusted but endeared at the same time, until his tongue brushed against her shattered cheek. Yleri hissed in pain and the wolf-hound scurried away from her, growling. Instinctively she held out her hand and cooed at him like a mother would at a frightened child. The hound padded up to her once more and he opted to lick her hand instead. She chuckled at the once threatening wolf-hound. She smiled kindly at. The animal stopped licking her hand clean and looked at her with its blue-grey eyes, now they seemed to radiate with warmth. Animals have never been this friendly towards Yleri before but she had always had a special connection with them. She always understood them better than humans. With great difficulty the Nord began to stand, she needed to find a healer, find out what road she was on and how far away her target was. She tentatively reached out and pet the wolf-hound on its soft grey head. It pushed back in affection and licked at her hand again.

She bent forward to pick up her pack and organize her bed roll, she was not going to leave something so comfortable to be found by anyone else in these woods. The wolf-hound sat on its haunches once more and watched her pick up anything valuable and shove it into her little knapsack. She paused and looked over to the patient animal, "Are you going to travel with me now?", the hound cocked its head to the side, its ears twitching at her. Yleri thought for a moment, "Well you will need a name then, won't you?" The hound moved and Yleri could have sworn it nodded slightly. She mused, running her hand through her scraggly hair that came out of its braid during her slumber, her hands felt oily and grimy afterwards, and she did not appreciate that feeling. Almost a month without bathing, two weeks filled with torture, and hours lost in a sewer tended to make one remarkably disgusting. How the hound could lick her and still like her she would never know. "Ullr?" he growled, "Hircine?" the hound snorted and looked away, "Loki?" the hound gave her a look of indifference. "Fine, I will call you Loki until I find a better name. Is that alright?" he licked her hand in approval. She chuckled and continued scavenging before slinging her pack and changing into deer-skin leggings, soft and worn leather moccasins, and a very loose dark green tunic. She tossed her prisoner clothing into the nearby river and began to work on ridding herself of her shackles. Walking around with those would be a dead giveaway of whom she was. Loki rested near the riverbed as she searched for a sharp rock that would be sturdier than her tiny silver dagger.

By the time Yleri was finished breaking away one and a half shackles the sun was resting in the center of the sky. Loki had wandered around, playing in the water, hunting rabbits, and sleeping near his new friend while she worked. Sweat and mud coated Yleri's skin as she worked and water splashed from the river. The connecting link was so close to snapping. The rock slipped from her numb, water-logged fingers and slid away further into the current to meet the other shackle. A frustrated groan escaped her throat and her fingers rushed to the link in an attempt to snap the metal herself. Yet her mud-slicked fingers did not grasp at the submerged metal, opting instead to graze the metal with no friction. A frustrated scream bubbled to her mouth and she grasped for the metal pieces once more. This time however her fingers found purchase and began to bend the tired metal. She laughed with a joyful madness as the metal gave way and she shook the shackle away from her ankle. She wanted to run and slash around in the water, squealing with joy as this weight was lifted from her, but she resisted the urges. Instead she opted to wash her face and her clothing and make her way up river, there had to be a village around here somewhere. Loki sensed his friend's new joy and urge to be moving and began to follow her down the road.


	6. Chapter 6

When Yleri and Loki stumbled into a small village the Nord was pleasantly surprised to find that they were indeed on the Silver road. She found an apothecary in the small town and shuffled towards it, preparing to act like the wounded inside. The frail looking old man looked up from his alchemy lab and saw Yleri's state. Her swollen bluish-green cheekbone, scratches and bruises. He saw the slight limp, though she acted as if she was trying to hide it. He also looked over to see the wolf-hound sitting patiently with wisdom flowing through his blue-grey eyes. Yleri smiled charmingly at him to the best of her abilities, something that looked more akin to a grimace, and simply choked, "Please help". The man rushed over to her as she wobbled unsteadily and took her over to a nearby chair as she collapsed. Loki feigned worry and whimpered, placing his chin on her leg. She weakly pet him on his slightly coarse brow. The old man, a mage she now noticed, was bent over her, his withered hands were glowing slightly and touching her broken cheek. He hobbled quickly over to an old stone table riddled with stains from previous poltices. He set to work on his mortar and pestle, combining dried Lady's Mantle leaves and a chopped up Cairn Bolete Cap. He heated up some water in the calcinator and waited for it to simmer. He returned to the Nord girl and went to work on her smaller scrapes and cuts when his surprisingly strong voice began to ask questions.

"What happened to you girl?"

Copper hair slid into her slightly freckled face and she croaked out, "Argonian bandits, a whole camp of them." She cringed as he lifted her foot and gingerly moved it around. "If you had walked any farther on this ankle you would have done quite a bit of permanent damage, Nord."

"Nadja, my name is Nadja Alsingsdotter."

His grey, barely haired head looked up at her with humor, "Alright then, Naadyah." he purposely exaggerated the foreign syllables and she feigned a look of slight frustration and annoyance; the old Imperial chuckled. His magic flowed into her swollen ankle and a hot soothing sensation passed over the sprain. She sighed in relief and content. The soft rumble of bubbling water came from his alchemy table. He set her foot down gingerly and walked over to it, dumping the ground up ingredients into the liquid. The reagents soaked up most of the small amount of hot water quickly and the rest of the water bubbled, concentrating the mixture, turning it into a thick, pasty, salve. He added water from a wooden bucket with a small ladle to fill the retort's main container and then added some drops into the calculator to get the salve flowing. He moved the retort on to the calcinator's fire and funneled the watered-down salve into the long neck of the retort. Yleri had seen her mother do this dozens and dozens of times. Watching another alchemist work his craft brought back fond memories of her mother working hard at a little wooden table, pausing only to look towards her eldest daughter and smile. The clinking of glass on metal resounded through the room and Yleri was pulled out of her reverie. The old alchemist was pouring his poultice into a small metal cup.

The metal was cool on her cracked lip and the concoction, though foul-tasting, made a cooling sensation fill her body as her injuries began to heal and any infection she developed dissipated. She sighed in content. The old man moved to continue working on fixing her ankle, though it was not as swollen now the sprain had still been exasperated with all of her walking and fighting. The warm sensation washed over her ankle once more and she finally felt a great sense of pressure leave her. Her bruises and cuts seemed nothing more than memories now, little pink streaks or yellowed spots. Her ribs, due to the poultice had begun to fix themselves and while the pressure of bone fixing itself was painful, she could suffer through it in silence. The infection in her shoulder had been reduced, yet it was still feverish. The old alchemist frowned. He had noticed the arrow wound earlier and also the fact that there was no hole in her green tunic. He tentatively slid his hands under her tunic and onto her shoulder after getting her nod of consent. When his fingers brushed the wound she hissed in pain and Loki growled at the man, who jumped back quickly. Yleri put a calming hand on the wolf-hound's head and whispered, "Be calm, everything is fine Loki." the hound snorted and placed his head on her lap once more. The Imperial sighed a thank you to which she replied with a nod and small smile. The man began to mumble to himself as he shuffled back to his alchemy table and Baganda to prepare more ingredients. A salve by the looks of it. As he combined shredded bloodgrass, a chopped Daedra heart, crushed Lady's Smock leaves, and a single dried Dragon's Tongue flowerhead. The concoction boiled down and made thick bubbles.

"I never acquired your name kind sir." the honeyed words rolled off her tongue surprisingly not as bitter as normal. He looked up at her, his brow held a sheen of sweat from standing around a flame. He chuckled, "Celixius." he moved the ceramic pot to a cooling area on his table. She smiled, making her Nordic accent slightly thicker as she exaggerated his Imperial name. Celixius laughed, "You are quite the charmer Nadja." she pasted a smile on her face. He chuckled with a curious 'huh' as he moved to grasp a wooden stirring spoon. The Nord cocked her head to the side and she felt Loki nuzzle her hand to pet him once more. "For such a charming girl I expected you to have dimples."

Yleri chuckled at his statement, "Not all Nords have dimples Celixius."

Celixius smiled and deemed the concoction thick enough, shuffling over to her with the ceramic bowl sitting on thick cloth in his hand. She loosened the tying on her tunic and revealed a shoulder that was dusted with freckles, slight swelling, and an angry, hot hole. He dips two ancient and seemingly weary fingers into the sickly sweet smelling paste and layers it on her wound, pushing it into the flesh. She hissed and Loki perks up once more. The pain, however, suddenly stopped and cold sensation pushed through her veins and she felt as though she could walk through Alduin's breath and be fine. Though, she was sure that was just an exaggeration.

The three beings sat there for a few moments. Celixius checking the Nord over for any injuries that might not have healed properly or completely. Yleri sat there, her stomach beginning to growl and her eyes growing heavy with sleep. Loki had placed his head back on Yleri's lap, beginning to like the human more and more as she scratched behind his ears. Celixius sat back and released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His wrinkles scrunched up ten-fold as he smiled at his patient. "My dear Nadja I do believe you will no longer need my services."

Yleri perked up and smiled widely, "How much do I owe you Celixius?"

The Imperial focused on counting the math in his head, "That will be seventy-eight septims my dear." Yleri smiles, it was pricey but her life was worth it and the old man seemed in dire need of money. "How about I buy enough potions to make it eighty-five?" she smiles as his eyes grow wide and he nodded his head and rose to collect the health poultices. Yleri digs through her looted coinpurse and rose somewhat unsteadily to her feet. She walked over to the rotting wood counter top where Celixius was placing two poultices in a small leather satchel. Yleri handed over the eighty-five septims smiled, and with a thankful goodbye, walked out of the shop. She must have beeen there for longer than she though because the sun had risen to its highest point in the sky. Loki trailed behind her as she made her way further along the road.

By the time she found the bandits it was twilight. She had to listen at the edge of their camp for what felt like forever before she found out who Stalks-In-Shadows was. Despite being second-in-command, he acted like the leader which is why he must have the contract on his head. So she waited until the darkness engulfed the forest. She made her way silently towards the camp, pretending as though she were hunting a deer. She shifted her footing slightly before creeping forward to get a better angle. He is on the other side of the camp, but thankfully on the outskirts. She unsheathes her silver dagger with a quiet sliding of metal-on-metal and creeps towards her target, prepared to strike.


End file.
